“Approach,” said Job. Bildad's legs came over the mat. “You seek your room? But not your couch?” “I'm going to bed, if that's what you mean,” George told him. Mr. Marrapit groaned. “Spurn it. Shun sloth. In the midnight oil set the wick of knowledge. Burn it, trim it, tend it.” George withdrew to his room; set the midnight pipe in his mouth; leaning from his window sped his thoughts to Battersea. V. One member of the house remained to be sent to sleep. Mrs. Major put a soft knuckle to the door; came at the call; whispered “I thought I might disturb you.” “You never disturb me, Mrs. Major.” A little squeak sprung from the nutter in the masterly woman's heart. “You sigh, Mrs. Major?” “Oh, Mr. Marrapit, I can't bear to see you lying there. The”--she paused against an effort, then took the aspirate in a masterly rush--“the house is not the same without you.” “Your sympathy is very consoling to me, Mrs. Major.” “Oh, Mr. Marrapit!” She plunged a shaft that should try him: “I wish I had the right to give you more.” “Your position in this house gives you free access to me, Mrs. Major. Regard your place as one of my own circle. Do not let deference stifle intercourse.” The masterly woman hove a superb sigh. “If you knew how I feel your kindness, Mr. Marrapit. Truly, as I say to myself every night, fair is my lot and goodly is my--” Icy dismay took her. Was the missing word “hermitage” or “heritage”? With masterly decision she filled the blank with a telling choke; keyed her voice to a brilliant suggestion of brightness struggling with tears: “The sweetling cats are safely sleeping. I have come straight from them. Ah, how they miss you! How well they know you suffer!” “They do?” A tremble of pleasure was in Mr. Marrapit's voice. “They does--do.” Mrs. Major recited their day, gave their menu. “I must not tarry,” she concluded; “you need rest. Good night, Mr. Marrapit. Good night.” “Good night, Mrs. Major.” Mr. Marrapit put out his candle. VI. And now in every room, save one, Sleep drew her velvet fingers down recumbent forms; pressed eyelids with her languorous kiss; upon her warm breast pillowed willing heads; about her bedfellows drew her Circe arms. Mrs. Major's room was that single exception, and it is that masterly woman's apartment we now shall penetrate. Hurrying to semi-toilet; again assuring herself that the key was turned; peering a last time for lurking ravishers beneath the bed, Mrs. Major then fumbled with keys before her box--threw up the lid. Down through a pile of garments plunged her arm. Her searching fingers closed about her quest and a very beautiful smile softened her face--a smile of quiet confidence and of trust.